


One Night in Ul'dah

by AiryLies (LaceLich)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Gay Sex, Hair-pulling, M/M, One Night Stands, One Shot, Roleplaying Character, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaceLich/pseuds/AiryLies
Summary: In which Beauregard Thibodeaux, rogue Elezen extraordinaire has a problem. Maybe he can find a solution, but it's not in the bottom of a bottle.
-or-In which the author has done a brief one shot of a strange one night stand between their alt character on Balmung and their most reliable white mage party member. Always remember to tip your healer kids, that's how we survive Mhach.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _NOTICE ME SENPAI_
> 
> Ahem. So. First foray into the weird land of writing anything involving a role playing character. Look at me, representing the strange side of Balmung. Pretty much just did this because... well there were reasons and it ended in this and I'm so sorry.
> 
> Proud of me now, senpai?

The wine wasn’t doing it for him anymore.

It left him with a slow burn in the back of his throat and a looseness in his bones, but it wasn’t enough to scratch the itch that festered under his skin. Beauregard Thibodeaux was not an entity designed to be solitary. Instead he preferred to charm his way into every set of pants and fluttering skirts as he could.

Nothing could explain why he found himself in a back corner with a glass of wine in one hand and a miqo’te tail in the other. Sometimes Beau didn’t really know how he ended up in these sorts of situations. It was always a fifty-fifty chance that his strange brand of seduction would work and he constantly found himself amazed at the results.

He had started with the basics: buy them a drink, complement their hair, talk about the weather; anything to break the ice. His sisters were constantly amazed that he could turn a simple greeting into an elaborate come on, or even how his awful pickup lines could even work.

“Now what’s a pretty kitty like you doing alone in a place like this?” Beau would never be rid of his thick drawl, his face automatically contorting into a lascivious grin. “That’s a crying shame.”

The other man, and oh what a man, was smaller than he was. But his muscles more than made up the lack. Beau would like nothing more than to see him spread out on silk sheets with his ankles locked around the small of Beau’s back, to watch what he looked like while he rode his cock to oblivion. He couldn't help but lick his lips and take a sip of the wine that bored him to wetten his suddenly dry mouth.

It wasn’t his fault he was such a degenerate.

Nimble fingers tugged lightly at the Miqo’te’s tail, slid the inky black fur through his gloved fingers and Beau smirked at the light purr his actions received. On second thought, he wanted to see the other man gagging on his cock under the table. Or maybe he wanted to shove the shorter male up against a wall somewhere and see if he could make him scream and claw up Beau’s back.

Silver eyes locked onto his over the edge of his glasses and Beau felt his heart jump up somewhere near his throat. It wasn’t Beau’s fault he thought with his balls instead of his head, nor was it his fault that he unconsciously let go of the Miqo’te’s tail in order to bite his knuckle instead. There were just far too many deviant options.

They were in the same Free Company, still had to work together the next day. But that didn’t matter. Beau had to live in the same house as the cadre of maids who waltzed through his bed, and he had slept with every single one of them. And the kitchen boy. He was very proud of that one. Beau wanted what he wanted, and no good son of the Thibodeaux line would ever lie to themselves about it.

“Cocky, aren’t you,” came the deep grumbling purr of the object of Beau’s current object of affection.

Beau tipped his glass towards him and was rewarded with a raised eyebrow. “Well, pretty kitty, I’m only as cocky as you want me to be.” And he wouldn’t back down, because a Thibodeaux was only as good as their word. Not that he really had much practice at being a proper Thibodeaux, but that was neither here nor there.

The white mage at his side laughed. Beau was a particular fan of how the sound made the table vibrate under Beau’s palms. Food for thought.

Beau had the other man pressed up against the wall, loomed over him just enough for his lips to barely touch the fur of his ear. “May I touch you?” He wasn’t sure how he ended up here, just knew that somewhere in the press of flesh and the burn of liquor the mage was his for the evening. He was careful to avoid directly touching any of Lyn’to, gloved fingers perilously stopping a hairsbreadth away from the fur on his chest. Any hair that glorious could be categorized as fur, and Beau would stick to that until he died.

Lyn’to whined, and Beau leaned in just a touch closer. “May I touch you, pretty kitty?,” he breathed into the ragged air. He ran his nose along the fur and gently bit the base. “Or would you prefer to touch me?” Beau was relieved with the other man shuddered and gripped at him with shaking hands.

He did so like it best when his partner for the evening enjoyed it at least as much as he did. Beau shifted, let his arms brace up against the wall and gave the mage as much room as he could stand. He stared into the other’s eyes and winked. “Knees.”

It was always nice when he was right. It was even better when he let his hand hover over inky black hair, his other hand playing idly with those damned silky cat ears. “May I have you then? Just this once, pretty kitty.” It was too easy to lose himself in the rush of blood and the itch under his skin that just wouldn’t quit. He was better, with the Miqo’te man on his knees beneath him as he braced himself against the wall, but it still grated against him.

His answer came in quick hands on his pants, surprisingly deft fingers unlacing him far quicker than he could have managed for himself. Beau would be offended that he couldn’t really listen to the other over the burn of  _ need _ that rushed in his veins, but he had such an attractive image before him that he didn’t mind. Cold fingertips against his cock made him hiss through clenched teeth, but the potential discomfort waned as the itch grew louder.

More. He needed  _ more _ and he needed it  _ now _ before he died. Beau refused to be content with just the careful press of fingers and the lacking option of just a hand. There was a perfectly good mouth  _ right there _ that he could be fucking instead. For a moment, common sense escaped him. Here was a man who could probably snap his lanky (he could lie to himself all he wanted; Beauregard was not nearly as gifted in the muscular department as the white mage with his hand on Beau’s cock) body in one swift movement, his extra fulm of height be damned.

It felt like perfection to let him tug at his cock and nose along the length. But Beau still buried his fingers into Lyn’to’s hair and pulled until he could see the arch of Lyn’to’s spine and the line of his throat. “Not enough, pretty kitty. Show me something else.” He couldn’t keep the command out of his voice, dripped it in through his lust haze like a sudden spark of clarity. His arm shook as he held himself up by nothing by willpower and far too many hours spent crouched on impossible watchpoints.

The mage may have been made for healing, but Beauregard was an elezen made for the fine art of the blade. It was just a shame he couldn’t stay in the room for the evening.

Beau twitched his hips just enough to make his cock jump. Turquoise eyes winked and he nudged his hips again until he felt the miqo’te got the hint. Some distant part of Beau’s mind wondered what it would look like to paint the other’s skin with cum, if it would leave white streaks against the dark grey of his skin. Common sense said it wouldn’t, but Beau was more than willing to test his theory.

Warm and wet, perfect and warm, and Beau couldn’t help but moan. “Oh.  _ Good kitty.  _ Such a  _ pretty _ kitty.” He curled his fingers against his palm and braced his arm against the wall, eyes forced wide to watch his cock disappear into the warm wet of Lyn’to’s mouth. But he kept the other hand woven into Lyn’to’s hair, tugged when he wanted it harder and stroked when he enjoyed the pace. Beau gave the tiniest hum as another ilm slipped into the Miqo’te’s mouth.

It wasn’t enough.

Gloved fingers gripped at the back of Lyn’to’s head, one hand forcing the other to stop all movement. “You’re so pretty like this. Pretty kitty, let me play too,” he crooned, bent in half to nip at those pretty ears. “Let me play, pretty kitty.” And he groaned as his hips snapped forward.

Oh that was nice to look at, the way the Miqo’te’s eyes went cross and wide in shock. It felt nice too, that muffled gasp as Beau choked him with the length of his cock. He had to shut his eyes and breathe for a moment, surprised at how easily he could force the other to take it. Beau stopped for just a moment to admire his handiwork, slowed the gliding jerk of his hips and just watched the brown of his cock slide into the dark grey of Lyn’to’s lips. If he paced himself, stroked just slow enough, he could time himself perfectly with the Miqo’te’s stilted breathing.

Beau stroked through the red streaks in Lyn’to’s hair and hissed through his teeth. “Look at you, pretty kitty. So pretty for me.” The words came harder to his tongue, leaden and dry as it was. His fingers fumbled, leather numbing the sensations. Beau brought the hand laced in perfect black locks to his mouth, panted while he gripped the leather in his teeth and pulled. “ _ Pretty _ kitty,” he murmured.

He straightened with a long, disjointed moan. Beau brought both hands to the sides of Lyn’to’s head as the Miqo’te began to purr with a faceful of Beau’s cock. By the Twelve, he did love a good Miqo’te purr. “That’s it… there’s a darling.”

And then Beau snapped his hips, back to catch slightly on the sides of long canines, forward again to hit the back of a throat and push past. He set up a pace that dragged saliva from Lyn’to’s mouth and what had to be an unhealthy amount of precum from Beau. The only sounds he was concerned with where the rumbling purr from the body he used to chase his end, the muffled choking gasps Lyn’to couldn’t quite stop, and the slap of flesh against flesh as Beau took what he wanted.

His so called ‘pretty kitty’ somehow managed to twist his tongue to drag against the sensitive underside of Beau’s cock and he choked, grabbed far harder than he meant to as he pulled his hips back and Lyn’to’s head back.

If anyone asked, he entirely meant to cum all over the Miqo’te’s face in desperate arcs. Some carnal part of him enjoyed the contrast on the other man’s skin, and he just couldn’t stop himself from bending over and biting at one pretty little ear. He held the other’s face in his hands and smiled. “Such a pretty kitty. Let me play again, hm?”

There was something wrong with Beauregard Thibodeaux. He tucked his cock back in his pants and pulled his glove back on with his teeth, tied his pants back together and readjusted his knives on his belt. Ah, the wine just wasn’t doing it for him anymore.

There was a burn in the back of his throat and a looseness in his bones, but it wasn’t enough to scratch the itch that festered under his skin.

Nothing was ever enough to scratch his itch.


End file.
